Piping Hot Pile of Rejection

Yesterday I spent a long time writing a post about a creative experience that I had found disappointing. I decided not to post it because it was mostly for me. It was cathartic to write about this experience that for many months caused me a lot of grief and shame. In its current condition, the post is not ready to be shared. It needs a little more levity to it. I need to express my disappointment without my bitterness and resentment taking charge. But perhaps I will share it eventually because I think it is an important story to tell, especially as we have time to sit and think about what kind of artists we want to be on the other side of this. Also the story is about real people who some of you might know (ooh juicy.) So I guess I should consider that before I post publicly about it.

I also realized that I could write one hundred posts about disappointment or rejection. The impetus for writing yesterday’s spiel was an overhaul of my email inbox. A spring cleaning if you will. I can’t get myself to organize my real life, but it seemed more attainable in my virtual life. Plus, if I stopped halfway through, there wouldn’t be shit strewn all over my floor as I attempt to decide what I need to keep and what I just want.

Point being, I came across dozens of disappointments all laid out in nice succinct emails that I am sure all of us have received in some form or another. You know something like:

Dear Applicant,

Thank you so much for applying to [whatever high brow institution you applied to where you have no connections]. Unfortunately, we are unable to offer you a spot in our program. We had an incredible number of talented and impressive applicants this year [people who know how to network, which you, Hannah, do not know how to do]. We thank you so much for applying [for giving us your email] and we wish you the best of luck on your future endeavors [but we will use your email to send you promotional material and we will call you to ask for money].

Sincerely,

Head of Program [Impressive Name who likely never laid eyes on your application]

The same day I got rejected (for the second time) from one of these institutions, I received a call asking me to help fund their next season. It’s little cosmic things like that that remind me we have to laugh at ourselves. The poor man who called me had no idea that I just cried in my car over a three sentence rejection email from the very same place he was asking me to support. Nor did he know that I had recently quit my job in the hopes of getting into this program or one like it. So not only had I been rejected, but I was unemployed and rejected and now they wanted my money, which I had very little of when I had a job and now there was even less.

I politely declined. “I don’t have the funds at this time,” I said, “but I will be sure to continue seeing shows when I can.” He thanked me and we parted ways.

It’s not his fault I got rejected. If anything, he probably doesn’t really enjoy cold calling patrons to ask for money, but hey, it’s a job. (Also to be clear, I quit my job because it was a bad job, but the ideal outcome was to quit and then get into one of these programs and all would be right in the world. Things don’t really line up like that.)

It’s not this man’s fault, and it’s not the institution’s fault either. Sure, they did the rejecting, but that was based off of whatever I put out there for them to reject. And it’s not really my fault either. Sure I wrote the thing that they read and then rejected, but my application didn’t exist in a vacuum. There were plenty of people who wanted the exact thing that I wanted, and plenty of them just had better applications than I did. And there were plenty of people who also got rejected, and plenty of them also had submitted better applications than I had. More people got rejected than accepted. That’s just how the numbers work. Math! I can do it!

I am use to rejection. I have been doing theatre since I was 5 years old. If I couldn’t handle rejection, I wouldn’t still be doing this. Or I am a masochist. Jury’s out I suppose. There is a certain amount of resiliency and down-right insanity that is required to pursue this as a career.

That’s not meant to be a pat on the back.

Oh good job me! I continue to allow myself to be disappointed but its for a purpose.

No no no. The singular purpose truly is just to get better at being rejected. You do develop tough skin after being served piping hot rejection for over a decade…two decades now I suppose?

Rejection is a normal part of life. And just because I am used to it, doesn’t mean that I don’t still cry in my car over it. I just cry for less time now. And that, my friends, is what we call growth.

I could count up all the rejections I have had in the past four years and they would likely be in the double digits, approaching the triple digits. Maybe this is an exaggeration, but it feels like the truth. Sometimes the truth is buried behind feelings, and that’s okay.

But out of those rejections have also come a handful of acceptances. And those acceptances have led me to opportunities that I never thought I would have. Those rejections have taught me to reflect on how I can do better, and to decide how my time is maybe better served doing something else.

Since I graduated, I have directed 28 productions. This is not a humble brag. It is, in fact, just a brag. I am proud of the amount of work I have put in to grow as a director. Have all of those shows been incredible, fantastic, amazing, stupendous, jaw-dropping? No. Some were just down right not good. But I have learned something from all of them.

In January of 2017, I was approaching a year since I had graduated college and I had directed nothing. Not a thing. And my brain said, “Well you’ll never direct again, Hannah! Here’s your proof!” And it was hard not to believe that. I was doing other things, mostly performing and administrative stuff, but not directing. And it seemed impossible that anyone would ever let me direct anything ever again. I was out of the game. I was dried up and shriveled from being left out in the sun and forgotten about.

Part of this lack of directing work was due to the fact that I was waiting for someone to let me direct. As if out of the blue, they were going to say, “You seem like maybe you got a degree in theatrical direction. You’ve never mentioned it and you are incredibly shy and self-deprecating, but boy-howdy I bet you are one heck of a director!” (Don’t come at me for boy-howdy. It’s fun to say. Try it.)

I started, very quietly, telling my friends I was a director. I remember where I was when I told my lovely friend Beau Feeny that I, in fact, had received my degree in directing. We were at Steppenwolf getting ready to see Straight White Men by Young Jean Lee. He was talking about wanting to do a solo show and I think I casually mentioned that I had directed some solo shows in college and was happy to help him should he want me to.

Mentioning this to Beau eventually resulted in me coming on board to help out his sketch group, Rosemary’s Other Baby, for a run they were doing at iO. I’ve been directing them ever since. They are my favorite beans. I love being a part of their ensemble.

Rosemary’s Other Baby would have celebrated our third birthday a few weeks ago—that of course was postponed. But there is some irony in all of this coming together in the seats of a Steppenwolf theater. If you hadn’t guessed already, that was the rejection I mentioned early. I had been rejected, for the second time, from their apprentice program. Yet, it was being in their building that had allowed for a moment of connection that has brought about one of my most fulfilling creative endeavors thus far.

I have received several rejections in the past 12 months. A lot from day jobs. A lot from creative programs. But I think that just means I wasn’t right for them and they weren’t right for me. It wasn’t the right time. I’m not really a “if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be” kind of person, but every so often I hold on to the sentiment. Maybe its my rejection coping mechanism, but it helps put things into perspective. How many other early-career artists are crying in their car or the train or the bathroom at the day job they hate because something did pan out? Millions. This is the math. Do not dispute it. It is a fact.

When I am feeling particularly bad about where I am at, I generally like to say, “Okay, this is point B. Where was point A? And what has changed in that time? What have you done in that time that you thought you could never do?” Some of these things are projects I succeeded to do, and some of these things are being rejected from things I really wanted, but being rejected in such lovely company. While I get served my piping pile of rejection, I know others are too. I guess that there is some solace in knowing we are eating from the same shit pie. Yum. Bon Appétit!